A beautiful day. As we were sitting in our cove, one of the boys staying at the hotel came running to say a gentleman wanted to see Miss O’Brien. She went off, and on coming back told us it was her brother-in-law, Mr. Wallace who called with his Morris-Cowley to see if we would like a spin to Tramore with him. But he couldn’t wait, and was gone when she came. So we missed that anyway. After tea, we walked to Callisoe Bay. Miss O’Brien was very much afraid of dogs on the way. We had a talk with a charming country postboy who lives in a little cottage right on the side beach of the beautiful bay. I asked him if I could go fishing when he goes out next, and he said I could on Sunday! Miss O’Brien and I talked Irish all the way back. It was dusk, and I thought how in keeping with the lovely Irish landscape is the Irish tongue. We heard a flute-player at some Irish jigs far off, and I thought how I would love my country if I were an Irishman, but being Bavarian, I am split between the two.
